"In the present case, however, I was not unconscious, though I allowed my natural instinct to guide me, but for some little time with small success; for though after each veiled attack my companion's face grew paler, and the look of repressed feeling was more plainly noticeable on his features, yet he continued to talk on trivial subjects, and all attempts to turn the conversation into a personal channel were adroitly set aside, though with manifest effort on his part.
"Probably when nature planned men and women it failed to make allowance for what are now called considerations of honour, and possibly this may have been the cause of my difficulty. Trusting, therefore, that it might be more easy to arrive at the desired point by starting on another path, I said--
"'Are not men supposed to be more honourable than women?'
"'I do not know,' he replied; 'but as men have more temptations to dishonour, they have more opportunity of showing off the quality and gaining credit; yet I fancy that the great battles are lost or won more often in private than in public. The noble deed that the world hears of is often the impulse of a moment--some unconscious act of heroism; there are many who can do great deeds under the inspiration of the hour, but how few can safely meet temptation day by day successfully, in moments of weakness as well as in times of strength! The day may come when the sword of honour is forgotten, and the man falls even before knowing that he is in the presence of danger.'
"'You are very solemn and dull to-day. What has happened? Are you ill?' As I said this I put out my hand and just touched his arm. 'Can I not help you in any way? Tell me, what has been disturbing you so much lately? We are friends, you know, and friendship is a poor thing where there is no confidence. Besides, if you remember, I have already confided in you once.'
"He was trembling visibly, and looking up into his face, I knew that I had conquered.
"'I cannot tell you this,' he said; 'do not ask me.'
"'Oh, very well!' I replied, pretending not to understand him. 'Of course a girl's sympathy is not likely to be any use to you. It was absurd of me to fancy that it might be, and very probably you think I am not to be trusted.'
"'It is cruel of you to say that,' he replied. 'There is no one I would sooner trust. There is no one whose sympathy I long for more. But cannot you understand that there are some things that I may have no right to speak to you about--have no right to feel, perhaps; but our feelings we cannot always control, though our words we can.'
"'Oh, I don't want you to make me your confidant about anything which you consider I had better not hear,' I said, purposely still seeming to misunderstand him. 'Of course I can quite see that you may have something on your conscience which it would not do for you to tell me. However, I am sorry.'